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Friday, September 14, 2001
Ottawa fell silent today.
Today
at noon the Parliament Building Peace Tower bells tolled the hour.
At the last stroke the crowd on the Parliament Lawn, which had been
gathering for more than an hour, fell silent. It was the silence of
the countryside, without a beeping auto horn, a belch of air brakes
or screech of tires in mid-town Ottawa, Ontario, the capital city of
Canada. Thousands of Canadians leaving their usual daily posts
carried US flags and single stem flowers, to congregate in front of
the building that seats the Canadian Government on Parliament Hill.
It was an unprecedented show of sympathy and communal sorrow and
support for the terrible losses only a short distance south across
the border in the States.
The military band played and a
baritone sang one chorus of O Canada, the Canadian National Anthem
and then one chorus of The Star Spangled Banner. A burst of applause
and then all silence again. Except perhaps an occasional sob.
Everywhere were faces clenched in pain and sadness, shoulders
sagging, heads bowed, shaking.
Nearly in tears himself,
Canadian Prime Minister Jean Chretien addressed the somber
multitude. His amplified speech echoed slowly in the urban canyon of
government buildings, the reflected sounds making his words nearly
undecipherable. But the sadness and resolve in his voice were very
clear. US Ambassador to Canada Paul Cellucci then spoke, his voice
tight with resolve, his face tense, strained, his eyes never leaving
the throng before him.
Applause rippled across the
crowded lawn. Applause that sounded more like the rustle of leaves
in a quiet meadow. Again the echo carried the sound past the usual
bounds of reality.
Governor General Adrienne Clarkson
spoke briefly of sadness and humanity, echoes of her sad tone
clinging to the air, clinging to memory, clinging to time itself.
Then
a single bagpipe began.
No other sound could have
expressed more sorrow and pain, the echo, this time a primal wail,
resounding from inside everyone there. It was the echo of
generations of frustration and fear and anger welling up, the echo
of the pain and sorrow and suffering of all humanity.
Governor
General Clarkson then asked for three minutes of silence, prayerful
silence. The crowd, finally estimated at over one hundred thousand,
fell silent. Bowed heads, hands over hearts, some just in tears.
Three small, toy balloons drifted up from the crowd.
Three small balloons rising quietly into the windless day. Three
small balloons: one red, one white, one blue.
The tower
bell again began to toll very slowly, each peal echoing alone in the
clear air and then fading alone into history. It marked not the time
but the times, not the hour but the moment, not the passing of time
but the passing of life.
The crowd began to filter away,
photographers catching tearful faces and huddling groups. The people
returned to activities as usual but now somehow different.
Everything has changed. Making the best of those changes
is how we survive.
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My trip back to Duncan probably
will not start until the 20th or later. Bought a ticket yesterday. The
border is back open already but tight around the New York line.
Fortunately last year’s changes in the Duncan/Ottawa bus route take me
through Windsor/Detroit instead of Montreal/upper New York State.
Whether there will be any permanent problems crossing the border
remains to be seen.
I just returned from a walk down south
on Bank street to a health food store because I was out of gluten
flour for bread. On the way, I stopped to talk to my young friend,
Chris Griffin, in his studio. He had been working on a painting but
was just sitting, listening to the radio. He was choked and
speechless. "I was just painting," he said. "Now I just can't. It's
just too terrible, too senseless." Then he just reached over and
unplugged his radio.
It changes the way you think. It
changes the way everyone thinks.
Later, each customer at
the health-food store, as they paid for their, carob or wheat germ or
vitamins, commented how painful, frightening it was to hear the news
about the US.
At the Blood Center on Plymouth Street near
here, there are lines in the street of Canadians, mostly university
students, waiting to help. Some are waiting as long as two hours to
get in to donate blood.
I stopped for coffee at a
Starbucks. I sat and watched the conversations at other tables, the
exchanges between the incoming customers. Everyone shows shock and
sorrow at the awful and useless loss. I looked through the remnants of
this morning's papers scattered around the tables. I had the passing
urge to save them to read again tomorrow. Tomorrow's editions will be
very sad.
Some people have likened this attack to Japan's
attack on Pearl Harbor, December 7, 1941. But it bears little
resemblance. The difference is mainly that after Pearl Harbor we knew
the identity and location of the attacker. This time we don't. The
enemy is faceless. One similarity is that undoubtedly this will
increase mass prejudices against the Middle East, The Arab and Israeli
states in particular. If we learned nothing from the Second World War
experience, there may even be concentration camps of
Mid-Eastern-Americans. I just heard a radio news report that a 15 year
old Arab American was beaten up in a school yard by school mates.
Another similarity is that the tragedy will probably cause
Americans, (that is Mexicans, Canadians and the States) to gravitate
more toward unity. The entire democratic free world will probably (or
at least should) tend toward greater unity. The Allies, Americans,
British and Russians, in the second world war were partners in
defending against the aggression of Japan and Germany (as those
countries were configured then.) Before then and indeed after, they
were not all great friends.
Bush is probably wishing he
hadn’t fudged in Florida about now... Canadians have a different view
of our political circus. Many actually feel that the US politics are a
bit more down to earth than Canadian. Others just think that it is not
quite as funny as their own.
To be drug out...
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